


Training

by MissDavis



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: John is more fit than Sherlock, M/M, Running, but you knew that already didn't you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-22 12:03:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8285195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissDavis/pseuds/MissDavis
Summary: Sherlock had terrible running form; they would have to work on that later. For now, John just ran, happy that for once Sherlock was the one chasing after him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [October 2016 Sherlock Challenge: Sports](http://sherlockchallenge.tumblr.com/post/151188472861/welcome-to-the-4th-sherlock-challenge-this).

John trotted back along the path—he was done jogging but he felt good, as if he could have kept going if he'd needed to. For the first time he thought he would be ready to run the 5K in three weeks. His shoulder was a little tight and he knew he needed to work on keeping his arms relaxed, but his legs still felt strong and he wasn't too winded. Sticking to the training program really had helped—too bad Sherlock had refused to do most of it with him.

He backtracked about a half-mile through the park before he found Sherlock, who was, surprisingly, still running. "Time's up!" John told him, but Sherlock held up a finger, then raised his wrist to show John his stopwatch still counting down. John turned to follow along beside him—Sherlock was moving so slowly that John's brisk walking pace was enough to keep up with him. He ran for another minute or so, getting slower with each step and raising his arm to check the time every few seconds. When the watch beeped zero Sherlock stopped dead in his tracks but John put his hand out to tug on his arm. "Come on, keep walking."

"I hate you," Sherlock gasped, and bent to put his hands on his thighs, ignoring John's attempt to keep him moving.

"No, you don't. The opposite, actually." 

"I hate...your co-workers."

"Mm. Sorry." John got a better grip on his wrist and pulled, forcing Sherlock to walk with him or fall. It was true that John would never have thought to try running a race if everyone at work hadn't decided to enter as a group, but he was glad he had done it, though maybe trying to get Sherlock to join them had been a mistake. "So you actually ran longer than the 20 minutes we were supposed to do?"

"No. I walked for five minutes in the middle. And I stopped to use the loo. Give me your water."

John handed him his half-empty bottle of water—Sherlock said it was too distracting for him to carry his own as he ran. "But you did do twenty minutes of running?" John asked. The training plan they were using gradually increased the distance and time spent running. John had followed it religiously, running three times a week no matter what; Sherlock had skipped days because of rain, unsolved murders, a runny nose and a sore knee. The knee was the only legitimate excuse, in John's opinion, but an elastic brace seemed to have eased the problem.

Sherlock nodded, sloshing water into his mouth and then spitting most of it onto the grass on the side of the path. "This is stupid." 

"No, it's not. You're doing great. Doesn't it feel good to know you ran that much without giving up?"

"No. It feels stupid. Like I should've stopped running a mile ago." He took another gulp of water, swallowing it this time. 

"But aren't you glad you kept going even when you wanted to stop?"

"John." Sherlock gestured at him with the water bottle, which was now almost completely empty. "You have spent years—literally years—telling me I needed to listen to my body and take care of it. Now all of a sudden I should do the opposite?"

"Not if it's really telling you something is wrong," John said, glancing over to try to gauge if Sherlock was in actual pain or just overreacting. "How's your knee?"

"Sore. But so are my ankles. And my calves. And my thighs."

"You shouldn't have skipped so many days on the plan."

"The plan is stupid." Sherlock thrust the water bottle back at John and started to veer toward one of the benches that lined the path.

John reached out and caught him by the hem of his sweat-soaked shirt. "Come on. Keep walking or you'll cramp up."

"No. I need to sit."

"You can sit when we get home."

"Now."

"Nope." John pulled at his shirt but only briefly, knowing he couldn't make Sherlock do anything he really didn't want to. Surprisingly, Sherlock followed him rather than bolting for the bench. John gave him a quick pat on the arm in encouragement. "If you make it all the way home your legs will feel better and you can celebrate with a nice warm bath. Relax, maybe put some bubbles in it."

Sherlock glared at him but kept walking. "When have you ever known me to put bubbles in my bath?"

John grinned. "You might like it."

"I'd get a rash," Sherlock said.

"Hmm. That's probably true." He watched Sherlock from the corner of his eye: he was walking more steadily now, and while his face was still bright red, his breathing had slowed. They were almost out of the park. Maybe it was time for one final push. He increased his pace so he could get ahead of Sherlock, then turned to walk backward as he addressed him. "Race you home?" 

Sherlock opened his mouth to protest but before he could speak John turned his back to him and started to run. As expected, he almost immediately heard feet pounding on the pavement behind him. Sherlock had terrible running form; they would have to work on that later. For now, John just ran, happy that for once Sherlock was the one chasing after him.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm supposed to be doing a Couch to 5K with my kids. The race is next week. It hasn't killed me yet, though one kid dropped out after 3 weeks and the other one probably could've run a 5K without any training at all. So when I saw this month's challenge I had to write this, even though I'm already writing a [really long sports AU](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4989544/chapters/11461792).


End file.
